Family of Seers
by ChuckTheElf
Summary: Luna has lost the Gift, but is she worse off than before? omake for Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches.


The ceiling looked different. Once, she could have predicted the exact number of ways it would fall. Or evaporate, as in the case of Reality Number Three-Rabbit-Bunny. Or turn into a flock of oranges, in two separate realities. Those never lasted long, and strangely vanished whenever Neville Longbottom entered the room. She'd put him on the list of factors to consider later, until her Inner Eye had left.

It still hurt, being unable to See. Oh, she could still find things; the Blibbering Humdingers would be lost without her timely interventions. But she couldn't _See._

Luna sighed happily. Not knowing the future was so deliciously wonderful; she could see why others preferred it. Knowing the future made life boring at times. Other gifts kept things interesting, but the literal knowledge of when to go somewhere, where to do something – or better yet, where and when _not_ to do something, sucked the joy out of life more thoroughly than a hungry swarm of Plimpy's on a juicy bit of jam tart.

She returned to the present. Not knowing the future had its drawbacks of course. She had to pay more attention to her surroundings. Precognition made things easier in that regard, but a suitable penchant for knowing how things existed could serve admirably.

For example. Breakfast.

Luna carefully constructed a bacon latticework around her eggs and toast. The precious pudding stood guard to one side, closer to Hermione's side of the table. She liked Hermione; she was smart, if not terribly imaginative. And she was pretty, or would be soon enough. Pretty was good, it would make Harry happy so many different ways. Remembering the future made her wriggle in delight, almost distracting her from the present.

Right. Present.

Present also meant gift. Gifts were good for everyone, but mostly for the giver. That's what Daddy and Mommy had said, and she trusted them almost as much as she trusted Harry.

A touch of wishful thinking, and the bacon snapped into place. Bangers marched into place, propelling the bacon-catapults into position, loading the boiled eggs. Just seconds before the array attained armed readiness, a letter fell from on high, spearing into her toast.

Eyes wide, Luna studied the address, and easily decoded the subtle framework the Lovegood Family Magics included. The directive written into the curlicues of each address line were clear: she would be foolish to disregard it.

Luna Lovegood, Former Seer, Betrothed to Lord Slytherin and Queen of the Bacon People, was no fool.

Carefully, she guided her bacon to a new position. The sausage soldiers gleefully followed her direction, and launched their de-shelled payloads. Pre-omelet materials, sadly never to fulfil itself in the joys of such existence, found other goals to attain. Namely, claiming the birthright of all avian descendants, and attaining the gift of Flight. If only for a brief, yet glorious existence.

Behind her, two eggs that had somehow become unbalanced in their passage through the air, tumbled off course. One landed in the beverage of an unsuspecting Ravenclaw, startling her into spilling the cup. The other rebounded off the table, bouncing twice in-between two goblets, sliding past the cavernous maw of Ronald Weasley, and tipping over John Potter's delicate stack of pancakes. The confectionary pile tilted dangerously, spilling maple syrup and sugar over to one side, beginning a chain reaction seen too-late by the Boy-Who-Also-Lived-But-Did-Not-Know-Why-Or-At-Least-Did-Not-Care-To-Think-About-Why.

 _That_ prompted a desperate sound behind Luna, glimpsed only in part through the reflection of a silver pitcher before her. The sound of desperation was evident in the yelp, crash of cutlery, and roar of indignation as gravity asserted its mastery of the universe. More specifically, the section of universe containing a table filled with top-heavy containers and energetic, paranoid diners.

Luna opened her letter, slitting the wax with her spoon. Noise levels increased behind her, crockery spilling over despite its best efforts to hop upright – animated cookware had disadvantages after all. The letter was short, but sweet; just as her parents wont. She would read the actual letter later, once the days activities had drawn to a close, and the plan for the next day would need to be devised.

 _Dear Kumquat,_

 _Thank you for the lovely memories. Do look out for Heliopaths, they are rampant this year. Your mother and I encountered an Umgubular Slashkilter – most unseasonable behavior. Still, they seemed reasonable enough and elected to leave after encountering the Garden Gnomes in the back garden. Such helpful, beneficial beings they are!_

 _Remember to brush your teeth, soap the third stall floor, and count backwards from seventeen._

 _Love, Seer Lovegood Sr._

She folded the letter away once more, beaming happily. A Ravenclaw, clutching her books to her chest away from the spilled goblet the first egg had spilled, rushed past her, incidentally dropping a news article from the _Daily Prophet_. It floated to rest on the table beside Luna. Being a Ravenclaw, she couldn't resist reading it.

 _Lord Slytherin masks: for sale! Floo for details!_

The news was boring, but the information was new. It appeared the Weasley Twins had begun their economic empire a touch earlier than expected. She would have to revise her plans concurrently. By great luck, the next phase was about to occur less than ten minutes from now. She'd have to hurry if she were to get ahead of it.

Beaming to herself, Luna bypassed the massive food fight currently taking over the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The mad crush of students flocking to the exit did nothing to stop her; Crabbe and Goyle had managed to befuddle themselves completely, looking as if they were contemplating joining in the fun, or eating everything that flew nearest. They served as a quite successful defilade, allowing her to bypass the mass entirely. She skipped as she ran, ignoring the shouting mess of syrup-covered John Potter and his group. Virgo especially had egg on her face for some reason – how had that happened?

No, lacking the Sight was a true Gift, Luna decided.


End file.
